These Men
by madiamazing
Summary: Raoul was warm, handsome, kind; a man she loved dearly. But Erik…Erik was different. Damaged, dark, sad…and yet, every bit as intoxicating as Raoul. Was it possible to love two men equally? Christine doesn't think she could ever choose between them, and so for now, she won't. Modern AU. One-shot. RATED M


**Okay, so…this idea wouldn't leave my head one night, so I just decided to write it down! Yay?**

 **The Christine in this fic may not be your usual shy, innocent, good girl Christine. This one's reckless, far-from-perfect, and confident in herself and her sexuality. She's not heartless by any means; she knows what she's doing is wrong and potentially hurtful. But she** ** _is_** **only human, and humans have the tendency to make mistakes. Sometimes even consciously…**

 **This fic includes cheating, so please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that.**

 **I really want to improve as a writer and any and all criticism is welcome.**

 **Rated M for smutty smut. Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

* * *

 ** _~These Men~_**

The city was buzzing with activity by the time Christine left her bartending shift. People flooded the streets, all either heading home from a long day of work or going to their Friday night engagements. It was that typical time of evening where every vehicle on the congested road could not seem to go more than fifteen miles per hour, and Christine decided not to bother with the bus or a cab. She knew it would be quicker to just walk the twenty blocks home.

She didn't mind the walk, even enjoying it on occasion. The familiar, comforting sounds of the city and the chilly evening air were just what she needed after a frenetic workday. A gust of cold wind caressed her face and she breathed it in gratefully, shoving her hands deeper into her leather jacket pockets.

Though she would have liked to take her time with her walk to savor the city she adored, Christine made her way home with haste. She needed to beat her boyfriend there so she could have dinner ready for him by the time he returned. She had a special evening planned of a home cooked meal and…well, other things. It was a small way to show him how much she appreciated his love and support. She would not be living as she currently was without him.

See, Raoul was rich. He had been born into a wealthy family and raised just the same. At just twenty-six years old, he helped run a multi-million dollar company and made a more than comfortable living, not to mention the trust fund he'd received when he turned eighteen. Christine wouldn't even try to comprehend that much money. It made her very uncomfortable, but Raoul had seemed to understand.

Christine had been born into nothing but her parents' love and her father's unsteady income from his career as a musician. She'd been poor her whole life, and that was what she was used to and what she was okay with. So when she'd met Raoul, she had been skeptical about him. Weren't handsome rich men arrogant and unkind? It wasn't long after getting to know him that she saw how he was _very_ different from that particular stereotype.

It was almost startling, actually. How could someone so handsome and _loaded_ have one of the kindest souls she'd ever known? And for some odd reason, he'd wanted _her_. Her, with her messiness, recklessness, and "unrealistic aspirations", as some might call them.

Christine's passion was the stage. When her father had passed away when she was seventeen, she'd fled to New York soon after high school to follow her dreams as he'd always encouraged her to. Though the move had put a damper in her relationship with her mother, Christine decided not to dwell on the grief and loss and simply push herself forward. She'd been working toward her dream since the move.

It had not been easy. Of course, she wasn't stupid; she'd figured it was going to be difficult, but perhaps she'd been a little too optimistic. She hadn't expected to be nearly starving, which is exactly how she'd been when she met Raoul. Every penny she'd made went toward her tiny studio apartment, bills, and acting classes.

Christine met Raoul one afternoon when he came into her work for happy hour with some buddies. He'd tried for over an hour to convince her to go out with him, and she'd ultimately turned him down, as he was _not_ the type of man she usually went for. But he showed up every day for the rest of that week, begging for one date, and she'd finally agreed. It turned out that they had great chemistry, though not much in common. Still, they'd been happily dating for a year and a half now.

When they'd decided to take the step to move in together, Raoul was more than willing to give up his luxurious apartment in trade for something more modest, knowing it would make her more comfortable.

She didn't deserve him in the slightest…for more than one reason.

The sun had completely set by the time Christine approached their apartment building and punched in the code on the keypad. When the buzz sounded, she entered and headed down the fluorescent-lit hall to the elevator. On the ride up, she glanced at the clock on her phone, finding she only had an hour before Raoul usually made it home. She came up with a game plan as she unlocked their apartment door and walked in.

The first order of business was to preheat the oven. She'd already prepared the lasagna before work that morning and had it ready to cook, knowing she'd be short on time. Luckily, Raoul had had a meeting early that morning, and she had time to prepare it before she had to leave for work.

While the oven heated, Christine removed her boots and jacket and skipped to the bathroom to freshen up. After washing her hands and spritzing some perfume on her neck and wrists, she touched up her makeup, hoping the eye shadow did _something_ to make her brown irises stand out. She decided not to bother fussing with her curly dark hair, knowing it wouldn't cooperate even if she tried, and so it hung long and wild about her face as it usually did.

She ran to the kitchen when she heard the oven beep.

The lasagna cooking, she flipped on the stereo and danced to the bedroom. At first she thought she should slip into a casual dress or something, but she'd worn her best skinny jeans that day and she knew Raoul had a liking for the way they hugged her hips just right. In the end she simply switched her collared work shirt for a black tank top.

After a moment of thought, she faced the long mirror hung from the door and adjusted her bra to make her cleavage show a little more, smirking a bit as she did so.

Once she was ready, she lounged on the couch, replying to some texts and browsing through her social media accounts on her phone. She'd even checked the Find My Friends app to see how far Raoul was from home. He was only a mile away when the oven timer went off, and Christine tried not to be too jumpy as she took the food out and shut off the oven heat. She was just turning down the music on the stereo to a low background level when Raoul came in the door.

"Hey, baby!" Christine squealed, running into his arms just as he hung his jacket up. He seemed a bit startled when she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him with fervor, but she could feel the upturn of his full lips against hers.

"Well…hi…there," he said between kisses, and she was thrilled to see his blue eyes shimmer with love and want when she pulled away.

"Hi," she purred against his lips as she kissed him again. "I missed you."

One of his blonde eyebrows came up. "I can see that. I missed you too, babe. What a way to be welcomed home." She giggled at his husky tone and hopped off of him.

"Come on," she kissed him once more and tugged on his hand, leading him into their generic little kitchen. "I made dinner."

"Wow, smells great. Wait…is that lasagna? No way? You made my favorite!"

They ate together and talked about each of their days. Raoul had actually had a hectic day of his own at the office, and he had been in a terrible mood most of the day, which was surprising considering his great mood now. He even told her that he'd snapped at his assistant and made her cry, something he _never_ did, and he felt awful about it. Christine suggested that he buy her some chocolates or something for an apology, and he smiled at her and said that was a great idea.

She could tell that he was exhausted, and she suddenly felt bad for planning this evening on a day when he was so stressed, but Raoul didn't seem to mind much. Not only did he seem pleased about the dinner, but her obvious flirting as well. Every few moments she would brush her leg against his beneath the table, or bite her lip, or give him a heated glace. She was trying very hard to make it clear that it was _on_ tonight. He seemed to understand.

When they each finished, Christine put the dishes in the sink and was about to give them a quick rinse when Raoul came up behind her. She grinned, feeling him sweep her curls over one shoulder and kiss her neck. Strong yet soft hands grabbed her hips and pulled her behind against his front, unmistakable hardness pressing against her lower back. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ready so soon?" she asked, her voice low and breathy, and she grazed his lower lip with her teeth.

"More than."

Raoul claimed her mouth with a rough kiss, and his hands roamed to admire her hips and behind. Her own hands clutched at his hard, strong arms, and she couldn't help but emit a small moan of appreciation into his lips. He lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist, and he somehow made it to their bedroom without tripping or breaking their heated kiss. It was very impressive.

Christine gasped when he threw her onto the bed, and then met his hungry gaze as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. Normally she would impatiently throw off her clothes, but tonight she looked him straight in the eye as she slowly got to her knees and pulled her tank top over her head.

Raoul shrugged out of his own shirt, and Christine only had a split second to admire his muscled, defined torso when he grabbed her legs and yanked. With a yelp of surprise, she fell onto her back, the mattress bouncing her a little. He tugged on her jeans, and she assisted him by unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. Down to her bra and underwear, Raoul gave her an admiring once over before finally jumping atop her and reclaiming her mouth with hot, wet kisses.

A hand skimmed her hip and down her thigh, and Christine shivered once his hips began to seek friction against hers. She sought to roll them over, and he obliged quickly once he realized what she was trying to do. She straddled him, bringing her lips down to his neck and jaw as she grinded on the hardness in his pants. He groaned in pleasured frustration and gently raked his fingernails on her back.

Christine shuddered in response, impressed when Raoul unclasped her bra with ease and tossed it aside. He rolled them back over so quickly that Christine felt dizzy for a moment, feeling even more so when Raoul's hand slipped into her underwear. She moaned against his lips, her head spinning as a single finger circled her sensitive little nub. She broke the kiss to gasp for air, and when she met Raoul's darkened eyes from dilated pupils, she nearly combusted then and there.

He never broke eye contact as he slipped a single finger inside of her, and she let out a quiet cry. "God, Christine," he panted, working his finger in her slippery cave, and she groaned as she grabbed his face and brought their mouths back together.

A part of her selfishly didn't want him to stop his expert hand, but another part remembered that this evening was supposed to be all about _him_. With some coaxing, she managed to get Raoul back onto his back and she worked at undoing his belt and unbuttoning his dress pants. She wet her lips with her tongue as she tugged down his pants and briefs, and once his visible arousal was free she immediately bent down to take him in her mouth.

He rasped her name as she relentlessly pleased him with tongue and lips and hands, and the groans and words of encouragement he emitted made her feel oh so powerful. He begged her to stop and to keep going and to stop again, likely afraid he might finish so soon. Still she persisted, and only ceased when he tugged at her hair, and she looked up at him with wanton smile on her wet lips.

He rose up onto his knees and tangled his hands in her curls, reclaiming her mouth like a man starved. She pulled her underwear down her thighs and under her knees and flung them aside, and Raoul unexpectedly swatted her behind. She jumped, and he broke away to look into her wide eyes, a sultry glint in his.

"Lie down," he commanded suddenly, his glistening lips turned up in a smirk, and she raised an eyebrow. An unexpected flush of pleasure crept up to her cheeks. It was unlike Raoul to take control, and seeing him do so was so… _hot._

Christine obeyed wordlessly, humoring him, and he resumed his position on top of her. He placed one chaste kiss on her mouth, dragged his lips down her neck, and she shuddered when he sucked and bit at her heated skin. She began to squirm when his tongue found the hardened peak of her breast, and she bit back a moan, tangling her fingers in his thick, golden hair.

"Raoul, _please_ ," she eventually breathed, boldly spreading her legs and arching her hips upward. He chuckled, but granted her request and positioned himself at her entrance, pressing his slick forehead against hers. He buried himself in her after a moment of anticipation, earning a cry from both of them.

The feeling of skin against skin, his hardness filling her, was pure bliss. His pace was slow, torturous. Delicious. She wanted to be greedy and urge him to quicken, but she held her tongue. He would thrust harder after a long pause, and she inhaled sharply each time she felt him deep inside. The scent of their musky, sweaty bodies invaded her senses, and she ran her tongue up his neck, tasting the saltiness there.

His mouth found hers again, his tongue dipping in between her lips and moaning in appreciation. Seeming to lose himself in her kiss, he quickened his pace. She whimpered into his mouth as the pressure inside her built with each sweet thrust of his hips. Raoul's gasping breath grew quicker, carnal sounds from deep in his chest coming out. And then, unexpectedly soon, he let out a loud groan and collapsed.

"Oh God," Raoul gasped after a moment of awkward silence. "I'm sorry, Christine. That was…quick. Wow."

Christine shook her head. "No, no," she assured him breathlessly. "Don't worry about it. I, uh, I mean we…you know, at the same time." She hoped the lie was convincing.

"Really? Huh," he murmured as he disconnected their bodies and hopped off the bed to pull on his briefs. "Usually I can tell when you do. You're like, really loud." He laughed a little, and then plopped right back down on the bed, his hands behind his head in a relaxed position. "Damn. I'm going to sleep like a rock, that's for sure." He shot her a grin.

She envied him there. Her body hadn't found its release, and she was very aware of that fact as her thighs clenched in discomfort. If it were any other time, she would make Raoul finish her off one way or another without guilt. But he was already shutting his eyes; his exhaustion even more apparent than it was at dinner, and she supposed all that mattered was that _he_ was satisfied.

Right?

Christine sighed quietly and got up, picking up her silky robe off the floor and throwing it on. Just as she was stepping into their adjoining bathroom, Raoul stopped her with a question.

"Hey Christine, I forgot to ask. Wasn't that audition you were talking about a while ago this morning?"

He actually remembered that? She turned and his sleepy eyes were looking at her curiously. He looked so hot that she nearly jumped back into bed and demanded another round.

However, she had a little more self-control than that.

Just a little.

"Uh, yeah, but I didn't go."

"Why not?"

"My, um…my voice teacher said I wasn't ready for that kind of show yet." Instantly, her stomach flipped at the mention of… _him,_ and she cursed inwardly _._ She hoped her voice hadn't wavered and that she appeared nonchalant. "He told me auditioning for it would be a waste of their time and mine."

"Really? He said that?" Raoul sat up on his elbows defensively, scrutinizing her face with furrowed brows. "That seems kind of rude."

"It's not rude, Raoul. He knows what he's talking about. If he says I'm not ready, then I'm not. Simple as that." She leaned against the bathroom doorframe, crossing her arms. She wished he would drop it. Talking about _him_ was the last thing she wanted to do this evening, especially with Raoul.

"Still…I don't like that he said that to you. You're too sweet to be talked to like that." A charming smile lit his face, and she shook her head.

"Raoul, I'm really not that sweet." She prayed he hadn't detected the hint of sadness in her voice.

Raoul gave her a questioning look, but then, thankfully, shrugged it off. He sure was unobservant this evening. Or maybe he was just too tired to function right.

He got up from the bed with a grunt, slowly padding over to her as he asked her another question: "So are you going to tell me what this whole thing is about?"

"What thing?"

"You know. My favorite dinner, super hot sex…" He smirked as he tenderly stroked her dark curls.

She swallowed, trying to maintain eye contact though she had an urge to look away. "No specific reason. I just…I love you, Raoul. No other reason besides that."

His ocean eyes sparkled, and he pulled her in for a soft, warm embrace, and she felt a lump form in her throat at his unwavering trust in her. "Well, I love you too, Christine. And thank you. This was the best night."

"You're welcome," she mumbled into his chest.

After a chaste kiss, Raoul jumped back into bed and immediately shut his eyes, not even bothering to flick off the dim bedside lamp.

Christine finally made her escape to the bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind her and locking it. She sighed in frustration, bracing her hands against the counter and facing herself in the mirror. She felt a strange urge to hit something, but she resisted, instead staring into her own dark eyes through the glass.

She was angry with herself. She felt angry with Raoul for making her mention her voice teacher, which was completely ridiculous. _Raoul_ had done nothing wrong. _Raoul_ had no idea why it would bug her to talk about… _him_. _Raoul_ wasn't the one betraying their relationship.

 _He_ wasn't the cheater.

Unable to look at herself any longer, she turned on the shower and slipped off her robe. It wasn't enough not to think about everything she'd been doing for the past few months, however.

She was a cheater. She was cheating on a wonderful man who didn't deserve it. She was a terrible, terrible person.

But…was she? Was being under the spell of two men entirely her fault? Christine wracked her brain as she washed herself, remembering the day everything had changed.

Her and Raoul had just moved in together, and her teacher had been—unexpectedly—very upset with her when she'd told him at voice lessons that day. She didn't understand why he was acting so strange, so angry, when he was usually stoic and calm and strictly businesslike when it came to their lessons. But not that day. He went completely ballistic, throwing around words like "irresponsible" and phrases like "too much distraction". He'd even gone so far as to threaten her if she didn't break up with him and move out, claiming that he would stop teaching her and make sure she'd never succeed.

Christine had been appalled. Pissed. _Hurt_. She'd thought he was someone she could trust, who cared for her in at least some way. He _was_ offering to teach her for free, after all, promising that her voice could rule the world if it were properly cultivated and that her success would be payment enough. And she'd even thought that they had a connection of some sort. They each shared a passion for music and the arts, but it was more than just that.

It was…an attraction. There was a sort of magnetic pull between them, and she'd seen in his expression that he felt it too, though neither of them had ever acted on it, like some unspoken agreement. For him to suddenly lash out at her relationship with her boyfriend felt almost like a betrayal. Like he was breaking a promise that had never really been made, but still hurt all the same.

Christine rarely felt afraid, but she had that fateful day, for his dark eyes had been blazing and serious and almost…insane looking when he made his threats. But it was _nothing_ compared to what happened after.

See, her voice teacher had always worn a white mask over half of his face. His reasoning being that it was for identity purposes, she'd never pressed him on it, assuming that it was the truth. He'd made it very clear from the beginning that if she were ever to touch it, there would be hell to pay. She thought that ominous threat strange to say the least, but she'd respected him enough to obey his command.

But, oh, she had been so angry with him that day! Who the hell was he to all of a sudden act like he _owned_ her? Like she _belonged_ to him? She was not okay with it. Christine would flatten any man who thought he could control her, or push her around.

He had come too close, gotten in her face, and she was so angry and afraid that she didn't know what else to do other than hit him. In her defense, she hadn't intended for his mask to come off when she'd struck him across the cheek with her open palm. But it did. And then there were screams. Tears. Pain.

She had been terrified. Not because of his horribly deformed face—unexpected it was, but she wasn't so squeamish as to be _afraid_ of something like that—but because of his reaction. To this day, the inhuman cry of rage and pain he'd emitted when he'd realized what she'd done still haunted her. Then, there had been insults, name-calling…things she could handle. What she _couldn't_ handle, however, was when her voice teacher had restrained her from leaving his home. He'd tackled her to the wooden floor, grabbing her hands and forcing her to rake her fingernails along his deformity until blood oozed from the already gruesome area.

Christine had never screamed so much in her entire life. She'd felt like a small child, totally helpless and afraid, and she truly thought he was going to kill her.

And then, like the flick of a light, his entire demeanor had changed. The raging fire in his eyes had turned to fear. He'd gone from terrorizing to apologetic in an instant. He must have realized what he was doing, heard the screams coming from her throat. He'd begun begging her to stop as he released her hands and crawled some feet away.

 _No, no please. Christine. No. You will damage your voice, please. Stop. Do not be afraid, please, Christine. I would never hurt you…please…_

And then he'd started to cry, and the sight of him—a grown man who'd always seemed so strong—reduced to such agony, and the stress of the entire situation, caused her to cry too.

Long after they'd cried themselves out, she'd heard his tortured whisper. _You may go._

Wordlessly, she'd gotten up, gone to the kitchen, washed the blood from her nails, and retrieved a clean dishtowel and a bowl of warm water in a trance like state, unsure of what she was doing. She should leave, right? She should get out and never return, go home to Raoul and act like nothing had happened…but that seemed entirely impossible.

When she'd returned to sit in front of him on the floor, he'd been hunched over, visible blood on the hand covering the right side of his face.

 _Erik._ Her hoarse whisper had broken the tense silence. _I need you to look up._

He'd slowly obeyed her request, but with his hand remaining planted against his face. His visible eye had been tired, apologetic, and filled with so much pain that she realized she'd have to experience years of torment to even begin to comprehend what he must have been through in his life.

Christine snapped back into the present, realizing the water had long gone cold and she was freezing. That was one inevitable drawback of living in an apartment such as theirs, and was why she showered at night and Raoul in the morning. Shivering for more than one reason, she shut of the water and wrapped herself in a thick towel. She could vaguely hear Raoul's light snore from the bedroom, and as she combed through her damp hair and brushed her teeth, she continued assessing her memory.

The affair hadn't started until almost a year after that whole ordeal, which was, strangely, the event that had brought the two of them closer together. As she had cleaned the blood off his face with a gentle touch, Erik had stared at her expression, likely looking for any sign that she was frightened or repulsed. Finding none, wetness flooded his eyes again and silently dripped down his cheeks.

The image of his awed, tearful eyes at her kindness was something that stayed in her mind long after she'd gone home that day. It broke her heart to think that he'd gone to such extremities to hide his _face_ , something that didn't define a person at all. Unless he thought that it did define him, in which she desperately wanted to show him that it didn't.

Erik was the most brilliant man she knew, a true musical genius. She'd known this by the end of her very first lesson with him, and had wondered why he wasn't well known around the world. He was beautiful in the way he showed passion through music. She would never forget for as long as she lived hearing him sing for the first time. It was an otherworldly experience, and she vaguely wondered if he _was_ indeed inhuman, or an angel perhaps, because his captivating voice sure suggested so.

After seeing his face, though it was tragically painful to realize, she'd understood why he'd never gotten famous or tried to get himself noticed. It wasn't fair, she had thought, that someone so brilliant, so talented, would never be widely known because of the way he looked.

Though he had terrified her, Christine decided she would return to him.

Erik had been shocked when she'd shown up for her next scheduled voice lesson on time. _I thought…_ he'd stammered, obviously having expected her to stay far away from him for the rest of her life.

 _Yeah, well you thought wrong._

Christine couldn't just leave him like that, and it pained her to think he had expected her to. He must have experienced nothing but rejection, abandonment, and hatred all his life, and she'd vowed to show him differently.

It had all been completely innocent, until one day it simply wasn't, and it was much too late.

The kiss hadn't been expected by either of them, and Christine had only realized she'd pressed her lips to his _after_ she had done so. He had been standing in front of her, making sure her posture was perfect as he usually did before they began each lesson. He wasn't completely satisfied, and he'd moved to adjust her with one hand on her back and one on her stomach. And then, before she knew what was happening, she was kissing his cool, unresponsive lips.

When she realized what she'd done, she broke away and froze. She'd stood wide-eyed for an immeasurable amount of time, waiting for some type of reaction from him.

After his initial shock had worn off, Erik couldn't keep his mouth or hands off of her, and for some reason she couldn't find the strength to stop him. His kiss was unlike anything she'd ever known; so inexperienced and ungraceful, but at the same time enthusiastic and exciting and…intoxicating. She'd been completely lost in it, and lost in him soon after.

So began the affair, and Christine was unable to give it up.

Erik knew she was with Raoul and had no intention of leaving him. She knew that must hurt to know, but she also knew he wouldn't voice it if it meant he could have at least some part of her. She knew he was not ready to lose her physical love, as he'd only just begun experiencing it for the first time in his life.

Christine's cheeks heated as she exited the bathroom, pulling on the first comfy pants she could find and a loose shirt.

Erik was…a fast learner, to say the least. Even their very first time together had been enjoyable for her, much more than she had expected taking a man's virginity would be. It was as if he had some instinct in pleasuring a woman, needing only the littlest signs of what she wanted in order to give it to her. He was very unselfish, in that way, unlike she tended to be.

She felt awful thinking of such things as she lied down next to Raoul, who was _definitely_ sleeping like a rock as he'd predicted.

Even after the long day, she felt restless. Thoughts of Erik always seemed to have that affect on her, no matter how hard she tried to repress them. Though she had been very cold mere minutes ago, lying on the warm bed with Raoul's body heat next to her slowly became stifling.

She tossed and turned for the next hour, unable to get comfortable enough to sleep even when she turned the ceiling fan on and ditched the blankets. Erik's name echoed through her mind, memories of their intimacy heating her until there was a prominent, longing ache in her belly.

Groaning quietly, Christine grabbed her phone and saw that it was almost midnight. Thankfully it was a Friday and she would be able to sleep in the next day, so she spent some time on social media, checking up on her friends and relatives. It didn't help clear her mind as she'd hoped, however, as her mind constantly wandered back to Erik. Was he awake? If he was, what was he doing? Was he thinking of her, craving her as she craved him at the moment?

Christine threw her phone back down and rubbed her eyes vigorously until she saw stars, frustrated yet again. She'd vowed by the time she was sixteen years old that she'd never let a man affect her more than she'd allow, promising to have control over her own emotions. After years of seeing her friends get their hearts broken and get pushed around by boys, she'd decided to make a different path for herself.

And now, here she was. Lying next to one man while thinking about another.

Turning her head, she studied Raoul's sleeping face. He was still snoring lightly, his lips parted and his golden hair drooping onto his closed eyes. A very charming sleeper he was, and a sad smile graced her lips as she gazed at him. Sweet, trusting Raoul. He didn't suspect a thing.

She sighed, lightly pecked his warm forehead, and got up.

She called herself every nasty name she could think of in her head as she left the bedroom and pulled on her jacket and boots. There was no point in trying to get to sleep when she was as tightly strung as she was, and she knew that. Determination carried her forward as she quietly left the apartment, headed for the only place she wanted—no, needed—to be at the moment.

The late night air was almost wintry, and it felt nice on her heated skin. There were still plenty of people out, and Christine ignored the funny glances she got from the drunken pedestrians at her state of dress. It wasn't that rare for her to leave her home in her pajamas, and she was used to the looks she got when she did. She felt confident enough being without makeup, but Erik had never seen her that way, and that realization made her chew on her lip nervously.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't be awake at all, or even at home. Perhaps she should have called first. She'd never shown up on him unannounced before, all of their meetings besides her regular voice lessons having been premeditated. Would he be angry with her?

Well, there was only one way to find out. His anger didn't intimidate her much anymore, not after that time with his mask. Nothing could top _that._

The streets became more and more empty as she walked to her destination, entering a part of the city that was less populated than others. She remembered coming here for the first time, armed with pepper spray and a pocketknife, unafraid to use them if needed. She'd had a peaceful feeling about her potential voice teacher, however, having been recommended to him by a trusted director she'd auditioned for many times, and she'd doubted she was being lured there for any other reason.

Plus, she'd been warned beforehand that the lessons would be in a very private location. When she'd found out he wore a mask as well, she was unable to keep from wondering if he was some sort of criminal in hiding.

Christine arrived at the now familiar, seemingly abandoned old apartment building, making sure no one was around as she approached. She could find no one save for a sound asleep homeless person, and she made a mental note to bring them something to eat on her way out. Hopefully Erik had something more sustainable than mere wine and bread in his kitchen.

Her stomach gave an excited flutter at the prospect of being with Erik, and she could hardly keep the smile off her face until she internally chastised herself for behaving like an infatuated little girl. Turning down the dark alley, Christine turned on her phone's flashlight to light her way, unused to navigating the strange path in the dark. She found the old basement entrance on the ground and crawled down, quietly opening the scratchy wooden door hidden at the bottom.

The halls she made her way down were usually cold, dark, and creepy, but they were even more so at nighttime. The silence was especially ominous, until she just barely started hearing sounds of piano as she approached Erik's door, causing her heart to squeeze in anticipation.

He _was_ home, then. And awake.

For a minute she merely stood there at his door, listening to his quiet playing. The music was unfamiliar and melancholy, and she wondered if it was an original composition of his. She hoped he wouldn't mind the interruption much.

Taking a long, deep breath, she finally raised her fist and knocked softly, and froze when his playing immediately ceased.

Hesitant footsteps approached the door, and she could tell he paused to look through the peephole, which was pointless since it was pitch dark in the underground hall. The only electricity—and running water for that matter—in the whole building was in his home, which she'd asked him about before. He'd vaguely answered that he had "connections", and she'd shrugged it off.

The door creaked open slowly, and there he was: tall, lean, masked, and furious, his dark eyes narrowed and glaring at her harshly. Still, a relieved, dreamy smile lit her face. She was just about to greet him when his furious voice whipped out in the silence.

"My eyes better be deceiving me," he spat, his velvety voice glorious and terrifying, sending shivers down her spine. "You better not have walked here in the dead of night on your own."

Christine rolled her eyes, trying to repress her smile, and didn't miss how Erik's eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. "That's exactly what I did. Now are you going to invite me in? I'm cold."

Erik let out a gust of frustrated air and rubbed his exposed temple with two fingers, glaring down at the floor. "What the _hell_ are you doing here, Christine?"

"I'm sorry for just showing up like this, but I…I couldn't sleep. I needed to see you." She suddenly felt awkward standing outside of his door without makeup and in her bedclothes. Christine very rarely felt self conscious, but Erik had always had a very strange affect on her, even now.

"Why?" He met her eyes again, and his were daring her to tell the truth.

She gazed at him through thick lashes. "I think you know exactly why, Erik. Can I come in, or not?"

He raised his visible eyebrow, still fuming, but stepped aside the threshold, sharply gesturing her inside. She walked into the warm, dim apartment. Erik's home was decorated quite nicely with dark colored furniture and wood paneled walls. The front door led right into the living room, where there was no TV or entertainment besides the glossy black piano in the far corner.

Smirking at Erik, she pulled off her jacket and kicked off her boots near the dark leather couch. He looked like he was about to have an aneurism.

"What?" She asked shortly. Was it because she wasn't wearing a bra? She hadn't thought that would offend him…

"No gloves, no scarf!" he spluttered, beginning to pace. "You could've caught your death, you stupid girl!"

"Really Erik," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips defensively. "It's not _that_ cold out. And I never get sick, strong immune system."

He continued to pace back and forth angrily, running a hand through his thin black hair. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, watching him for a few moments.

"Are you done?" she eventually asked, and he looked like the wanted to growl at her or something. She decided to try a new tactic. Her voice became coquettishly soft. "Look, Erik, if you're so mad at me, get over here and teach me a lesson."

That got him to pause his pacing, though his eyes narrowed even further. She beckoned him to her with a finger, and he swallowed, unmoving.

"C'mon, Erik. I need you," she pouted playfully, and was pleased when some of the anger seemed to fade from him. She might have even seen a little upturn of his misshapen lips.

His demeanor changed suddenly as he held his hands behind his back, straightening formally. He paced toward her ever slowly, and her knees began to shake at the dangerous look in his eyes.

"Christine," he began, his tone deep and chiding. "You would believe me to give you what you want after displeasing me so?" He stopped a few inches away, gazing down as he towered over her.

She swallowed, praying that he was just messing with her. When she opened her mouth to speak, no words came.

"You think you deserve a reward for your behavior? I beg to differ, dear girl." He circled her where she stood, never touching her but close enough that she could feel what little body heat he emitted. Her hands began to shake along with her knees. "All you had to do was call. I'd have gladly picked you up."

"Why don't you just punish me then?" She tried very hard to keep her breathing even as he stopped in front of her again, his eyebrow quirking at her request. Good Lord, he hadn't even touched her and she was already burning.

"Hmm," Erik considered, his silky voice filled with mock curiosity, "But wouldn't you enjoy that?"

Christine squirmed where she stood under his scorching gaze, keeping her mouth shut. She was starting to get annoyed that he wouldn't make a move, and she almost wanted to just pounce on him and hope for the best, but she couldn't gauge what his response would be, and that unnerved her a bit.

Erik seemed like he was waiting for a response, standing firm with his head tilted slightly, and she finally huffed out an annoyed breath.

"Are we going to do this or not, Erik?" Christine hated the amusement on his face at her needy voice. She was an impatient girl, and Erik seemed to be keen on making her suffer.

He looked down, his visible brow furrowing a bit, and then reached out a hand to pinch the fabric of her pajama bottoms. Her heart quickened, though he had yet to make contact with her actual skin.

"Care to explain these horrid pants you're wearing?"

Confused, Christine looked down and realized she was wearing her fluffy, bright pink polka dotted pajama bottoms that her grandmother had sent her last Christmas. They were not her style in the least bit, and she was going to throw them out, but ended up keeping them because they were so comfortable. Her cheeks heated in a rare moment of embarrassment.

She threw on her poker face and looked him square in the eye. "If you don't like them, take them off."

"So impatient, Christine," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her face. He was so close now; all she would have to do was stretch up on her toes and lean forward just a bit for their lips to meet…

"Oh no you don't," Erik pushed her back gently, his touch burning her skin, and she blinked her eyes in confusion.

Oh, she hadn't realized she had actually made the move to kiss him. Her blush deepened.

"Look, Erik," she urged, hating how her voice shook. "You can do whatever you want to me, however you want, I don't care. I just really need you, okay? You're being kind of mean and—" She was cut off when Erik grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his mouth down on hers, and she very nearly crumpled from the weight of it.

Teeming with ecstasy as Erik's firm lips moved roughly against hers, Christine had to lean against him, clutching at his dark grey dress shirt for support. It was a heady thing, being in his arms and tasting his malformed lips when she craved him so, and every time it never ceased to amaze her. Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine she'd be so affected by a man, especially this man, but _oh,_ she was.

Christine's heart raced in that familiar, terrifying way that it usually did when she was with Erik like this, a moan sounding in her throat. His lips parted, and she dipped her tongue inside to dance with his. She was pleased when a low groan sounded from deep within his chest.

She could feel the cool, hard material of his mask occasionally knocking against her face, and she reached up to pull it off. But before she could even touch it, her wrist was ensnared in Erik's vice tight grip. She broke their kiss with a startled gasp, meeting his intense, dark eyes.

"No, Christine," he chastised her, his voice low and husky in a way that made her weak. "We're doing this my way, remember?"

Before she could respond he released her wrist, only to take her hand instead and pull her down the short hall and into his bedroom. Her head spun as they entered the pitch-dark room, and he left her for a moment to light a single candle on his bedside table. With the amber glow illuminating the spacious room, Christine could see it was clean as always; bed made, no clothes lying around, nothing but immaculacy.

"Take off your clothes," Erik commanded in a low voice, interrupting her observations. Shocked, she glanced at his serious face. He'd always been more than eager to undress her himself, and his request was a little strange. He raised his visible brow, and she gulped and complied, quickly throwing her shirt off and kicking out of her pants and underwear. It took her nothing but a few seconds to become completely naked.

Erik's lips quirked up just a bit as he took a step forward. "Eager, are we?" His dark eyes roamed her bare body and she felt like his gaze was actually heating her skin. "Now," he instructed as he stood only inches away. "Tell me what you _need_."

Without hesitation, she answered, "I need you, Erik."

He leaned down to hiss in her ear. "Be more specific, my dear."

"I need you to touch me," she moaned, her thighs clenching at the very thought of his hands on her skin.

"Where?"

Her eyes narrowed in frustration, already regretting putting him in charge if he was just going to tease her. She grabbed one of his hands, pressing it eagerly against the core of her being and inhaling sharply at the contact.

"You selfish girl," he chuckled darkly, rubbing his fingers along her slick path in a way that had her whimpering. She grabbed the hair at the base of his neck and brought his mouth down on hers hard, and their teeth clicked awkwardly. Neither of them pulled away, however, simply adjusting their mouths to a more comfortable kiss that still seared her.

Erik soon broke their kiss and, dazed and breathless, Christine felt him lift her onto his bed, the cool, silky bedding a slight shock to her heated skin. He stood in front of where she sat, and she felt hazy when she met his scorching eyes.

"What now, Christine?" he taunted, but the way he looked at her made it seem like he was equally as entranced with her as she was with him at the moment, and that made her bold.

Christine fell back onto the bed heavily, letting her legs fall to the side without shame. "Kiss me, Erik," she begged, her needy, high-pitched voice foreign to her own ears.

"Where?" His wicked, smoldering gaze had her squirming.

"Erik, please!"

Suddenly, the candle went out, and Christine blinked dazedly in the darkness. She could hear Erik's heavy breathing, the wisp of fabric falling the floor, and the clinks of a belt being undone. After a moment of silence, she then heard the knock of his mask being set on the nightstand, and then she jumped a bit when she felt his cool, rough hands slide up her calves.

Tall enough that he could reach her where he stood on the floor, he kissed the insides of her thighs slowly, making her quake with anticipation. Surely he could feel how hard she was shaking, and yet he continued to tease her with wet, sometimes biting kisses on her fleshy legs. What a cruel man.

Christine moaned a wordless plea, and when she felt the first lash of Erik's tongue where she ached the most, she jolted rather ungracefully. She couldn't find the strength to be embarrassed, however, as she was too busy being devoured. Too busy drowning in pleasure.

Having already been so tightly strung, it took mere seconds for Christine to shatter completely, her body jerking as she keened. It took a minute to ride out the waves of her undoing, and she was almost bewildered by the strength it had all held. Had she ever had such a quick, intense completion such as that before?

Should she be embarrassed? She hadn't the strength to be.

Her gasps quieting, her body finally relaxed, she realized Erik had lied down next to her, and she sensed his eyes on her in the darkness. She felt the whisper of his fingers brushing away a matted curl from her face.

"Beautiful," Christine could just barely hear him murmur, and her heart gave a gentle squeeze.

It was a difficult thing, knowing they loved each other when their relationship couldn't be more than what it was at the moment. If she were a stronger woman, she wouldn't hurt him—or even herself—like this. She would leave him alone, or leave Raoul and go all in with Erik, but there was no way she could make that choice, not now at least. She was in love with both of them, no matter how impossible that seemed.

Her thoughts were effectively wiped away when Erik pulled her on top of him, reclaiming her mouth with an insistent kiss. Her heart raced at his roaming hands, at his nakedness beneath her and his hardening member against her hip. She raked her nails down his sinewy arms, adjusting her position so that she could teasingly grind on his erection, earning a groan from deep in his throat.

Erik clutched her hips, encouraging her movement. Christine moaned against his lips, feeling herself burn for him again. The sound seemed to fuel his fire as he tried to position her just so that they would be connected, but Christine wouldn't allow it, persistent in teasing him just as he did to her.

She could feel a shiver run through him, and the desperate sound he emitted against her mouth made her stomach flip. She'd tease him like this forever if it meant he would keep making that sound, but her desire for him was much too profound to ignore both of their needs. Breaking their kiss with a gasp for air, she sat up and searched for his throbbing arousal with her hand until she held him, hard yet silky in her palm, and she slowly eased him inside of her.

The feeling of Erik filling her sensitized body was so deliciously overwhelming that she let out a loud cry, and in response his fingers dug into her hips, his nails biting her skin. She set a slow pace, but Erik was not having it, and he threw her off of him and repositioned her until she lied on her stomach. He immediately pressed his body atop hers, holding her there.

"I was put under the impressions that _I_ was in charge tonight, no?" he purred into her ear as he thrust into her hard from behind, thrilling her. The intensity of their position combined with her sensitivity had her falling fast, shattering again and again around him until tears streamed down her face and her throat went raw from crying out. Her mind only deterred from her own pleasure when she heard him growl her name as he found his own release and stilled atop her, burying his face in her hair.

Once their breathing was at a normal level again, Erik pulled her back around to face him in an embrace, his misshapen lips brushing the remaining wetness on Christine's cheeks. "I did not mean to make you cry," he murmured, and she giggled breathlessly.

"Well," she said, kissing his mouth softly, "I don't mind so much when you do it _that_ way." He laughed a bit, and it was a rare, musical sound that filled her already too-hot body with more warmth. She caressed his face in the dark, fascinated with the smoothness of one side, and the unnatural swells and dips and crevices of the other. His breath shuddered a bit as he exhaled, and he suddenly lifted himself from the bed, leaving her hands floating in the air for a second.

She could hear Erik throwing his clothes back on hastily, and she let out a long, deep sigh, sprawling out on his bed. She was finally sated and exhausted, and her eyes closed without her permission.

"Are…are you staying?" he inquired hopefully after a moment. When she opened her eyes the candle was lit again, and she could see him fully dressed, mask back in place, avoiding looking at her naked body politely. She rolled her eyes. Even after what had just transpired, he was worried about looking like a gentleman.

"Sorry." She jumped off the bed. "No, I should get back. Wouldn't want…" She trailed off as she put her clothes back on, and Erik suddenly looked very uncomfortable, probably knowing what she had been about to say. She wouldn't want Raoul to wake and see she was gone.

He avoided her eyes, glaring toward the door as he said harshly, "Your boy needs to learn how to please you so you can stop using me for it."

Christine gaped at him, but he still stared away. His unexpected words stung, and she almost wanted to slap him. But as the silence wore on, she knew he must be hurting, otherwise he wouldn't have said such a thing.

"Do you really feel that way, Erik?" she asked, her voice sounding as small as she felt. "You think I'm just using you for sex?"

He didn't answer, only turning away from her until she stared at his back. His breathing was heavy. A lump formed in her throat.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she murmured thickly. "Though I don't know why you would when you know that I'm in love with you. I could no easier stay away from you than him, and you know it."

Erik hunched over, shaking, and after a moment, Christine could hear his quiet sobs. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and pushing him back onto his bed. He cried into her neck, apologizing for his words and his behavior, and she shushed him, stroking his lank hair gently and assuring him that he had nothing to apologize for, that she understood.

She comforted him until he finally relaxed in her arms.

"I did not mean to make you cry," she tried to joke after he'd long gone quiet, repeating his words from earlier.

"You are so lovely, Christine," he whispered into her neck, kissing it worshipfully. "How I love you. I am but a slave, my dear. You can have whatever part of me you want. I will never be ungrateful again."

Christine always felt a little strange on the rare occasions when he spoke to her like this, but she didn't comment on it. If it made him feel better to confess his feelings—no matter how intense they were—then she wouldn't ruin the moment for him.

 _What a night,_ she thought to herself tiredly. More than anything she wished she could crawl into bed with Erik and sleep the night away, but she had to get home and sleep in her own bed, next to Raoul. If he woke and found her gone…

Guilt pitted her belly, and she felt like she might be sick. She pushed those thoughts away as best as she could and pulled Erik's face to meet hers in a soft kiss.

He stood then, clearing his throat and standing tall as if he hadn't just been crying in her arms. "Come, I'll drive you." She followed him back into the living room.

"I can just take a cab," she offered as she slipped on her boots, but he shook his head.

"Nonsense."

She shrugged into her jacket. "Oh, I almost forgot! Do you have anything to eat?"

"God, Christine, that boy doesn't _feed_ you either?"

"No! My God, Erik," she laughed. "It's for a homeless person I saw right outside."

Erik visibly relaxed, and he led her into his tiny nook of a kitchen. He pulled out some bread, cheese, assorted meats, and pointed to the bowl of apples on the counter. "Help yourself," he muttered.

Thanking him, she made a couple of sandwiches, trying not to be distracted as Erik played with her hair as she did so. She was much too tired and didn't have the time for another round, and if she focused too much on his hands on her than she would most definitely want to go one.

She wrapped the sandwiches up in some plastic wrap, and then stuffed them and an apple into a grocery bag, and Erik wordlessly handed her two bottles of water. She smiled at him, taking them, and though he didn't return her smile her stomach still fluttered at the warmth in his eyes.

They held hands as he led her out of his apartment and back outside, and it was nice to pretend, just for a moment, that they were the only two people on Earth. It was easy too; since the streets were finally quiet. It made her…very happy to pretend that they were a real couple, and that she wasn't betraying or hurting anyone. She smiled wistfully to herself at the thought.

"Christine?" Erik stopped them, his voice velvety smooth, and she looked up at him. It was hard to see his expression in the dark, his white mask glowing eerily from the streetlight in the distance.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you smiling?"

"No…specific reason. I just," her voice shook, and she was vaguely aware that she'd said almost the exact same words to Raoul earlier that evening. The realization made her smile falter, but she still said seriously, "I love you, Erik. That's all."

She couldn't see his reaction, but she felt one cold finger stroke her cheek. "I shall never tire of hearing those words from you," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to her forehead briefly.

They were silent as they walked down the alley side by side, and they only paused again when Christine stopped to leave the sack of food for the homeless person, still fast asleep. They walked until they reached a parking garage about a block away from Erik's home, and he guided her to his fancy black sedan with tinted windows.

He opened the door for her and she thanked him, and as he drove Christine struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Tired are we?" he asked, voice low and melodious.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Can you blame me after a night like that?"

"Not at all." He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, and she each little touch of his lips deep in her belly.

When he arrived at her street and stopped the car, she pulled him in for a deep, lingering kiss. "I'll see you at voice lessons on Monday?" she gasped between kisses.

"Yes. And do not be late," he warned.

"Never." She kissed him a few more times, and finally whispered a goodbye as she got out of the car.

Her feet dragged as she made her way back up to the apartment, her head swimming with unwelcome thoughts.

How could something that felt so wonderful be so wrong? Why couldn't she have the both of them without the crippling guilt? Was she such a terrible person for loving two men?

 _Well duh,_ a snarky voice in her mind answered.

She sighed as she quietly unlocked the door, and she glanced at the clock on the stove once inside. It was passed three, and she rubbed her raw eyes as she kicked off her boots and tossed off her jacket.

Raoul was still sound asleep in their bed, and he looked like he hadn't even moved from his original position. It made her smile. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she crawled into bed as softly as she could, snuggling up to his warmth and inhaling his familiar, comforting scent.

Her heart seemed to stop when he stirred and turned to face her. "Hey babe," he sleepily murmured, eyes still closed. "You just now getting into bed?" He wrapped her up in his welcoming arms.

"Uh, yeah," she replied quietly, anxiously. "I was just…catching up on The Bachelor."

He grunted incoherently in response, and she was only able to relax into his arms when she heard his light snore start up again.

 _He'd never hold you like this if he knew,_ the annoying voice in her head spat at her, and she tiredly ignored it. She was much too exhausted to deal with those thoughts now, and soon she effortlessly slipped into a deep sleep filled with dreams of the two men she loved.


End file.
